


I Want the Earth To Move And the Cream to Churn

by CalamityCain



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Addiction, Blow Jobs, Cock Slut, Come Swallowing, Dubious Consent, F/M, Ghost Sex, M/M, Oral Fixation, Sex Addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 11:18:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15929345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityCain/pseuds/CalamityCain
Summary: In an attempt to deny his all-consuming craving, Loki seeks fulfillment everywhere else, and fails to find it. Which is how he ends up knocking on Hel's door.(aka Loki is a cumslut who is addicted to his brother's cock)





	I Want the Earth To Move And the Cream to Churn

 

The pale face was stretched thin, like a paper lantern housing a faint flickering light. Glazed eyes glared up at Thor as if accusing him of the all-consuming hunger that had whittled an already slender frame down to a shell of itself. Yet in the next moment those dry lips fastened on his cock when he slid it between them – the softest moan slipping narrowly past, aching and sweet, powerful in its need.

 

“There now, brother,” he whispered as if soothing a skittish animal. “You’ll be alright soon.”

 

In response, the weak suckling grew steadily more insistent. He cradled his sibling’s head like he would that of a new-born babe drawing what it needed to live.

 

Loki craved everything he had to give, and he gave it all.

  

~

 

_\- Two moons ago -_

 

The towering gates of Hel were closed to all who clung to the flesh and blood surrendered only by the truly dead. But as with almost any rule in any realm, there were exceptions. And so the goddess of this shadow-world came to turn her cold eyes upon the battered but proud creature who had somehow slipped past her spellbound borders.

 

“Playing dead again?” she said. “Do you never tire of the same trick?”

 

“Sister.” He bowed in greeting, his sharp face no less haughty for it. “I seek a cure for a certain…madness. One that galls me for its refusal to submit to my magic.”

 

“And so you think it will submit to mine.”

 

“Your powers are more prodigious than even mine – as we both acknowledge. And you know I will try anything once.”

 

“Anything but _not_ being a cock-craving creature…”

 

“It’s not of my choosing and you know it! This ridiculous craving is a part of the madness that consumes me.”

 

“Madness, or obsession? One of these can be controlled, brother.”

 

“Does it matter to you? Help me in this, Hela, and I will be out of your hair the sooner.”

 

Hela’s lips made a moue of disdain, and of thought. “Dark magic is a raw, unpredictable force. Even when distilled, it is insidious and eventually deadly to any who consume it, unless they are already dead.”

 

“And…?”

 

“And it will take time. To condense and tame the elements under my command into something palatable. And with hope, still strong enough to rid you of your troublesome thirst.”

 

“I am at your mercy until then. And – ” He hesitated before speaking. “If your cure should prove effective, I offer a year of my life in your service.”

 

Her deep sigh seemed to emanate from her very bones. “I aid you for the good of us all. By my cursed father’s beard, you are a menace enough without being addled by lust.”

 

“I thank you.” His lip was stiff as he bent his head in gratitude.

 

“And try to keep your wits about you while you are here. It shouldn’t be hard; the dishonoured dead are not half as lively as your more corporeal compatriots.” With a rustle of her long dark cloak, she was gone, leaving him in a vast hall of bones and weak silvery light streaming through ghostly windows.

 

He did not have far to go before a scattering of whispers rose about him, the shades of the more recently deceased – whose fleshly appetites had not yet deserted them – roused by his presence.

 

_“A sweet little princeling!”_

_“Hmm, and ripe for the picking.”_

From dust and shards of bone they rose into being, while others materialised from the shadows fully formed. A tall proud lord who very much resembled Thor made his heart pound, until a knife-like smile twisted the handsome visage and turned the pounding into a fearful flutter.

_“I smell the blood of a demigod…”_

_“Disgraced, but not yet dead”_

_“I’ll wager he’s still good to bed.”_

 

“Leave me alone, ghosts,” he snarled.

 

One of them grabbed his wrist. “Ripe indeed, and pretty too.” The foggy eyes gleamed. “And _thirsting_ for it.”

 

Loki opened his mouth to refute the claim, but all that spilled out was a shameful sound of want. When the Thor-like warlord grabbed him to press a throbbing cock into the cleft of his ass, he did not fight as heartily as he could have. Brought to his knees by the surprisingly forceful spectres greedy for his living warmth, it took the barest loss of will to part his mouth and take what they had to give in exchange for what they clamoured to claim.

 

The lightless days he spent in Hel were not too different from the days that had passed prior to him crashing through its gates. From the depths of Knowhere to the caverns of Nidavellir to the glittering waste heaps of Sakaar, he had slaked his craving only to find each time that it was a bottomless well.

 

Dwarves and men and gods he had lain with, often taking two lovers at once, occasionally three. His female sex, not often employed, became a widely sampled delight on an isle of half-giants who would otherwise have split asunder his other, tighter hole. His tongue lapped up their oddly tasteless spend that nonetheless left a metallic tang which made his senses tingle.

 

When his loveliness began to fade and his once luminous pallor grew wax-like, he resorted to glamours to seduce the next provider of pleasure. But sustaining such spellwork was tiring. And so was the very act of seduction when chased so closely by desperation. Before long, he was just another set of openings for anyone who cared to relieve their lusts in a corner dim enough to soften the planes of his gauntness. Impartial patrons of disreputable places who needed no bedazzlement or clever conversation. Taking any who would have him, with indiscriminate fervour.

 

But the fulfilment he chased from corner to corner across the galaxy proved hollow. And the pleasures provided by the no longer living even more so. The more he drew from them, the less they seemed to satisfy, and the further he wasted away.

 

_“Drink up, little god-prince.”_

 

A dead man’s sex choking him, as he drooled pathetically around what was surely an illusion of rigid girth.

 

_“Were I alive, I would subject you to such pleasures that you’ll not walk for weeks.”_

_“The rape of an entire village cannot compare to the plunder of such sweet flesh.”_

 

On his hands and knees he wept, and spread his legs wider.

 

With no demarcation of dayrise and nightfall, time was an insubstantial thing. Loki felt more and more like a ghost himself slipping, ever further into the grip of Hel and its denizens. Only upon Hela’s reappearance did his head clear momentarily – the disgraced dead scattering at the snap of her fingers and her fearful frown.

 

“They take as much as they give, if not more,” she said as her gaze took in his diminished form. “I would advise you keep away from them.

 

“Useful advice, sister, if it had come a little earlier.” His retort lacked sting; his voice faint and distant to his own ears. 

 

“I assumed you had the common sense to do so. I can see I assumed wrong.” She shook her head, dark hair swirling like ink in water. “It is not healthy for the living to spend so much time among the dead.”

 

“What of your promised cure?” he asked, struggling to focus through the haze that left him light-headed. The spend he had swallowed seconds ago was a phantom burn in his throat, sating his need in a rush that he knew would fade all too soon.

 

“In your weakened state, it would likely kill you faster. It seems I have more work to do.”

 

“I trust you to work fast. In return for my eternal gratitude, and – ”

 

The utterance died on his lips as he rose to his feet only to collapse, the remnants of his life force no longer enough to sustain him. He looked to the ceiling with glazed eyes and saw distant pinpricks of light dance like stars in a dream-like sky. Deathless stars in a lifeless world.

 

“Hela,” he murmured as consciousness left him. The last thing he felt was her coldness coiling around his frail body.

  

~

 

“He is barely clinging on to life.”

 

“Once again, brother, you show your fondness for stating the obvious.”

 

Thor, sick with worry, laid his younger sibling on a hastily arranged heap of cushions. Loki did indeed appear more dead than alive, terribly thin and breathing in weak inconstant gasps.

 

“If I had known of his strange…obsession, if it could be called that – ”

 

“He called it madness. I call it an unhealthy appetite he likely developed in his tender years. One you were a fool not to stamp out early.”

 

Thor stared at her with hurt and thunder in his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

 

The contempt in her lips softened into something less readable. “Do you not recall how _unusually_ close you were to each other, before you grew apart?”

 

“Some would say we are unusually close even now. Despite our centuries of warring.”

 

“And yet see where it has led him.” She stroked Loki’s head, running her fingers through the limp black locks, a surprisingly tender gesture.

 

“He was but a little child when he crept into your room and under your sheets. I saw him leave each time before sunrise; content at first, then with guilt written all over his face as he grew older. Before he learnt to mask his feelings.”

 

“You knew this, all the time?”

 

“Far longer than you suspected, that is certain.” She smiled grimly. “I was jealous of the bond you shared. Now you know why I began to grow distant.”

 

“I assumed it was your conflict with Father that caused the rift. He seemed to favour us more – well, myself especially – as the years went by.”

 

“Hah!” A harsh sound and a matching scowl took over her regal features, as tended to happen when anyone breathed word of the Allfather. “ _I_ was Odin’s favoured one. His firstborn, his pride. His Executioner, in the old days of blood and war.” Her fingers tightened in Loki’s hair, and he mewled softly, stirred by the painful tug.

 

“Stop that,” Thor said softly but firmly. After a moment, she did.

 

 “Those days ended, and I made peace with that. It’s unfortunate that Loki could not make peace as easily with losing you. Or rather, losing his once constant claim to being filled with your seed.”

 

Thor frowned in disbelief. “Can one truly crave such a thing so strongly?”

 

“Adoration can turn into obsession as easily as it turns to hate.” She tilted her head at their youngest sibling. “He was adopted, after all. Who truly knows the inner workings of his body…or his mind, for that matter?”

 

 _I know,_ Thor wanted to reply. His heart ached as he bent to kiss Loki’s cold forehead. _Or thought I did._

 

“I know what I must do, at the least,” he said at last. “Will you give us a moment?”

 

“Hmmm. I was hoping to watch…”

 

_“Hela.”_

 

She rose. “The _mighty Thor._ Such a prude.”

  

~

 

He would have likely slipped away into Hel and stayed there this time, were it not for that voice calling him back. The voice like a rumble of a coming storm, of the deep earth where good things grew, the voice that summoned him time and time again despite how strongly he resisted its seductive call.

 

_“Loki. I am sorry. But I must give you what you need.”_

 

Large warm fingers pried his lips open. He groaned as he tried to form words. He managed to part halfway his eyelids, which felt like they had calcified into stone.

 

Thor’s golden mane caught the light as his brother bent over him. Such beauty. And the tip of the cock that pushed at his tongue no less glorious. Its taste roused him fully awake, even if he was too weak to do more than let it into his mouth, and gasped with bliss at what he had longed for with every breath in his body.

 

““There now, brother.” A hand stroked his forehead, cradled his head. “You’ll be alright soon.”

 

 _“Mmmh,”_ he moaned around the familiar girth. The first trickle of salty pre-come flowed down his throat. He felt suddenly as if he had been wandering a desert for a century, parched to the edge of death. He drank it down with a feeble shudder. The thick cock pumped steadily into his mouth, urging him to milk every drop it had to give.

 

When Thor came at long last, a hot life-giving fount, tears of relief spilt down his face as he swallowed all he could. The fire in his belly, the electric rush coursing through his veins, was almost too much to bear. Thor wiped his lips and kissed him and he drank up the kiss almost as hungrily as the seed of its giver.

 

“Thor,” he murmured in a cracking voice.

 

“Yes, Loki. I’m here.”

 

With the reassurance of those words, Loki slipped into a contented sleep as he had not savoured in a long, long time.

 

He was not aware of how long he lay there, rising briefly to consciousness, falling back into blackness, floating on a wave of muted sensations. Once or twice he managed to rouse himself for long enough to take in sustenance pushed on him by an ever-insistent Thor.

 

“You must eat, Loki.”

 

“Give me your cock,” he muttered feverishly.

 

“Later. Food first.” The spoon nudged in, and he accepted its offering.

 

He begged to be filled more than once, long having given up any semblance of dignity. He swallowed his food obediently, and once, in exchange, Thor gave in to his wheedling. He swallowed the warm length eagerly, savouring its slick rhythmic thrust between his lips. And the slack-jawed look of lust adorning Thor’s handsome face above him was almost as heady as the spend with which he was cajoled into feeding his ailing brother. The arch of that magnificent body as he spilled into Loki’s waiting mouth, wordlessly urging his little brother to swallow it all.

 

“You wish to see me well, don’t you?” he said breathlessly, with that wide-eyed look he employed when feigning innocence in his youth. Though Thor had long ceased to fall for such a guise, he sometimes found it charming enough to weaken his will.

 

“I cannot continue to feed your addiction, Loki.” With some reluctance he pulled away.

 

“Do you touch yourself thinking of me, Thor?” he taunted in ragged breaths as his brother left the chamber. “Do you not delight in my addiction?”

 

He was greeted with silence. Angry tears burning his lashes, he fell back onto the pillows and fell into restless dreams.

 

Perhaps Thor’s restraint paid off; or his persistence in ensuring Loki received sufficient food instead of the less nourishing substances he sought. By the following noon he found himself able to wake without struggling to move his limbs or raise his head. He turned to see himself in a mirror on the opposing wall. His cheeks were no longer sunken, though his collarbones still formed a necklace of sharp ridges.

 

“It seems you will not die gasping for your brother’s cock, after all. Good.”

 

His sister’s hard, cool voice tinged with mockery greeted him as an icy, cloud-like substance was pressed to his slightly parted lips. By the time he realised what had happened, it had seeped past and slid in wispy tendrils down his throat, firming into tiny claws that sank into his lungs, his gut, making him cry out in pain. The fathomless force of dark magic only those like her could command.

 

“Shush.” Hela’s lips clamped over his in a kiss that was suffocating at first, then softened into soothing velvet. Her breath seemed to slither through him and numb the icy claws. Her hands ran over his body, beneath the soft fabric of the sleeping shirt Thor had clothed him with while he was unconscious. Her fingers traced the ribs that stuck through his emaciated skin.

 

“It will cure you of your mad craving. You will fill out soon enough.” She smiled, thighs wrapped tightly around his hips to press against a hardness that surprised him with its reappearance. Her own hips undulated serpent-like against its curve, making him shudder, her hands clasping his neck as she tasted it with her tongue.

 

Then she ceased her teasing abruptly and slid smoothly off him. He gasped, hungry for her touch while with the same breath dreading it.

 

“When you are well, brother, we can discuss the terms of your servitude.” Her dark eyes that spoke of eternity and death bored into his before she left the bedchamber.

 

“I look forward to your company, brother dear.”

 

He shivered at the weight of her words.

 


End file.
